


Just For Kicks

by CinderAndAshes



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: And The M9 Gladly Oblige, Attempt at Humor, Caleb Widogast Deserves To Be Loved And Cherished, Caleb Widogast's Backstory, Crack Treated Seriously, Gaslighting, Gen, I only have a very loose grasp on their canon personalities, Mighty Nein as Family, Past Abuse, Sorry Not Sorry, Trent Ikithon doesn't know what he's getting himself into, Trent Ikithon is not prepared to deal with the chaotic domesticity of the M9, Warning: Trent Ikithon, and all the warnings it entails, basically:, but he'll be a lot tamer than in canon and my other piece, copious amounts of Zemnian, hints at minor or background (pre-)shipping for Beau/Yasha and Fjord/Jester, not sure about Astrid and Wulf here, so I'm probably giving them an OoC spin, the M9 being far too careless with personal information because fuck Trent specifically, whooops there may have some allusions to past Bren/Eodwulf slipped in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26512744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinderAndAshes/pseuds/CinderAndAshes
Summary: “We brought something for dessert, see? It’s donuuuts and muffins and cookies aaand…yeah. Caduceus and I baked them ourselves and I’m sure you’ll love them. They’re very tasty and very pretty, too. Look!” And indeed, they are. At least, they are when Jester’s standards are applied. The heaps of baked goods are covered in frosting drawn into shapes of googly-eyed Captain Tusktooths, hamster-unicorns, dodecahedrons, Frumpkins and - of course - dicks. Ikithon’s left eyebrow twitches and Caleb would swear he can see a vein on his temple pulsating.________________The Mighty Nein accept a certain dinner invitation. It’s been some time, after all, since they’ve had an opportunity to have a real family dinner.Aka ‘Dinner for Nein’Aka while it would be incredibly hilarious for the M9 to just go “sorry, we have something more important to do, like, idk watering Cad’s plants or smth”, the thought would not leave me alone that it might be just as hilarious for them to attend Trent’s dinner and just crash it in true Mighty Nein style which conveniently doubles as a loud and clear statement for Trent, Astrid and Eodwulf about who exactly Caleb’s true family is.
Relationships: Astrid & Eodwulf & Caleb Widogast, Minor or Background Relationship(s), The Mighty Nein & Caleb Widogast, Trent Ikithon & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 18
Kudos: 146





	1. Let Me Kick It

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, uh, this got longer than I thought. It turned into a bit of a word vomit, but please enjoy this utter nonsense. Split into two parts (foreseeably, if the word count doesn’t chase off on me again, but three at maximum) because I desperately want to get the first part out before the next episode airs and I’m struggling with getting the actual dinner part into a coherent, connected state.  
> Switching of POVs may be poorly done and a bit random at times, but toggling so many characters isn't easy but I wanted glimpses into everybody for comedic purposes, especially later on.
> 
> Title and chapter titles taken from Feel It Still, which is sort-of the unofficial anthem of this fic AND would make for an absolutely amazing humorous M9 amv in my opinion (if only I could draw but alas)
> 
> Please note that English is not my first language.

Trent Ikithon’s house is an imposing tower surrounded by a spacious garden keeping it isolated from the other towers as well as the streets with their common rabble. Beauregard hates it. Especially because somehow, despite being far taller and far less sprawling, it keeps reminding her of her father’s estate. Only, the large mansion atop the hills of vineyards seemed bright and almost inviting in comparison. And that makes her hate it even more, to even consider thinking of her despised childhood home in a favorable way. Ikithon’s estate is cold stone and dark tiles and lighted windows that do not look inviting at all. The path towards the front door is covered with gravel softly crunching beneath her boots. She throws a dark look at the nearby manor, that is far smaller than the tower and shows no signs of being inhabited at the moment. “I swear, if that asshole forces us to climb up all those fucking stairs in his stupid tower when he has a functioning unused house right next to it, I will-“

Caleb coughs softly and Beau looks at him, surprised to find his eyes fixed on the same one-and-a-half story house and his focus distant for miles to go. “Y-yes, ah,” he clears his throat and tears this gaze away to look at Beau instead, doing an awful job at not looking weird at her, “Yes, I am surprised, too. I’d have expected the dinner to take place there, as well.”

Beau blinks in surprise. After a moment of silence, she asks: “Why?”

“Ah. Well…You know.” Caleb trails off and ducks his head. “It would just fit right in with his mind games, I suppose.” While giving an answer she can absolutely get behind, he’s still being annoyingly vague about it. She decides to file it away for later and snorts instead.

“Yeah, no shit. As if anything about this wasn’t some kind of fucking mind game.”

“Uh-uh,” Jester pipes up and shakes her head decidedly, “No mind games. Not tonight. We’re gonna have a family dinner and it will be the best family dinner we can have without my mama or Yeza or Kiri or the Traveller or Orly or Essek or…” She trails off, listing more and more of their long- and short-term acquaintances, many of whom Beau would let loose on Trent all too gladly just to see his stupid face at that if she wouldn’t want anybody to stay as far away from this asshole as possible. Except, maybe for Marius. Marius could suck it. Although, maybe this was even a bit too harsh for Marius…

“Well, I’m sure they’d all love to have a big dinner with us, too, Jester.” Caduceus gives the blue tiefling his patient smile. For a moment, he gains a ponderous look. “Maybe, once we have a bit of time for some preparations, we could organize something in the Xhorhouse…”

“Oooh, yesyesyes!” Jester gains a bounce to her step as she begins to spin excited plans and harebrained ideas with her fellow cleric both indulging her and seemingly growing fond of the idea in general himself.

“Can we maybe get through this dinner in one piece, first?” Fjord does not sound excited at all as he grinds out the question. Jester stops mid-sentence about enchanted folded napkins and turns to the half-orc with a worried look. Gently, she places her hand on his arm.

“Don’t worry, Fjord,” she assures him with a smile, “They won’t try to force you into the academy. They probably don’t even know you wanted to join back then. And if they still try, I’ll keep you safe. We all will. Besides, it’s just dinner. I mean, what’s gonna happen?” She scoffs and launches right back into decoration plans for ‘the largest, funnest, grandiosest family dinner in Exandria ever’.

While Fjord cannot help but smile at her words, the smile quickly drips away as soon as her attention turns from him. The scowl settles back on his brows. “I still have a bad feeling about this,” he whispers to Yasha, who nods gravely in response. She looks even more uncomfortable than Fjord feels, if that is even possible.

“Yes, I don’t like it, either,” she offers. Suddenly, Fjord remembers something from their past meetings with Trent Ikithon that he had pushed somewhere to the back of his mind, where it had been hidden beneath the clutter of all his other worries.

“Oh shit, Yasha! I completely forgot! He was interested in you, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh, that was so weird and creepy,” comments Jester with a shudder.

Caleb looks at Yasha with sympathy. “ _Ja_ , his attention usually is… _wirklich unangenehm_. I’m sorry for dragging you along.”

“Don’t- don’t be. It was my choice to come, too. We won’t leave you alone with him, either.”

Caleb’s lips twitch into a brief smile, before his face settles into the familiar lines of a worried frown. “But still, I should have thought of it. I mean, what, what if he tries to do something to you-“

“I’d like to see him try,” Beau offers grimly and cracks her knuckles, “I’m doing this just to get an opportunity to fuck him up, anyway. Well, no, I’m mostly here for free expensive food, but an excuse to deck him is a very close second.”

Caleb looks at Beauregard. Once more he finds himself in awe of her protective loyalty and how she decided at some points to extend it to him as well and he cannot tear his gaze away from her for a couple of seconds. Afterwards, it turns back to the tower ahead of them at the end of the road. His heart skips a beat, and surprisingly enough it is not because of the growing trepidation. It is because of a sudden and fierce onslaught of the all-consuming love he feels for the six people surrounding him, so willing to walk up to the lion’s den with him just to give a big, loud middle finger to one of the mightiest men in the empire because of him. For him. What a laughable, utterly ridiculous thought. And yet, undeniable reality. A fire burns hot and deep in Caleb’s guts, one amongst many. The fire of the need to keep them all safe, maybe even something resembling a shadow what he knows Beauregard possesses for all of them, makes itself known. It always burns in him, of course, but seldomly is he actively aware of it as he is now.

“I still say we should just poison him,” Veth announces and crosses her arms stubbornly. She was eerily quiet on the way to the Candles. Caleb has been a bit worried, if he is honest with himself.

“I’ve told you, that would not be any use,” he repeats what he told her before when she first announced this idea. “They’ve built up a resistance. It’s part of the Assembly practice.”

She huffs again. “ _Fine_. But I’ll steal whatever I want.”

“Hell yeah, you will,” Beauregard supports her and holds her hand out for a high-five the halfling gladly gives with a smug grin directed at Caleb. Caleb sighs and admits his defeat in silence. He is so worried for Veth, anyway. Ikithon hasn’t seen her in her true form, yet, and he hates the thought of the Archmage becoming interested in the change and anything else that may draw his attention to Caleb’s first friend.

The way to the front door seems to never end. And yet it is over far too soon. The large wooden door is in front of him and the doorknocker seems to taunt him and a sudden bout of panic washes over him, claws at his innards, threatens to suffocate him. Why are they here? What are they doing? How could any of them think this was a good idea to-

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Fjord lets go of the iron wrought knocker and crosses his arms, shifting his weight to one side. A moment passes. Another one. The door opens. Caleb gulps. Which gut punch is he going to get first? Astrid’s handsome face, her scar a cruel reminder of what he apparently did? Eodwulf, stoic and silent and unreadable? His throat is constricting and he’s not sure if he could get the words for a quick spell out if needed. And then, he sees him, looking exactly like he did the last time when he led them up to the beacon in the Vergessen Sanatorium. Pale skin, deep lines, long grey hair and such cold, cold cruel eyes. Caleb is rooted to the spot as Trent Ikithon’s gaze sweeps over the group in front of his abode, a joyless smile twisting his lips upwards.

“A good evening to you.” Caduceus’ deep rumble breaks the uncomfortable silence and Caleb feels the Firbolg’s elbow press against his shoulder as Caduceus takes a step forward next to him and it is all Caleb needs. The cold weight rises from his chest, he can breathe and most importantly, he knows he can do this. He is not alone. They are all here with him. For him. He can do this.

Ikithon’s smile takes a sharp edge. “Good evening, indeed,” he answers, “Welcome to the Candles and thank you for accepting my humble invitation. Especially you,” his eyes find Yasha and linger on her. She does not give him the satisfaction of twitching uncomfortably, as Caleb probably would, he thinks, and the moment draws on before, finally, Ikithon turns his gaze away from her and towards him instead. “And, of course, you. Bren, welcome home.”

In front of him, Veth bristles visibly and Beauregard opens her mouth, no doubt to say something very impulsive and very rude, but it is Fjord who is faster. He snorts. “Yeah, uhm, sure. Something like that.” He clears his throat and speak a little louder. “Thanks for the invitation. May we come in?”

Ikithon’s eyes narrow at the half-orc’s words, but he leaves them uncommented. Instead, he steps aside. “Please do. Astrid and Eodwulf are already here,” he aims this information at Caleb especially, “And are…eager to see you.”

Jester skips forth, a wide small plastered on her face, her sharp teeth glittering. “Thank you sooo much for the invitation, Mister Icky-thong.” Her voice is a sing-song and sounds as earnest as it possibly could. She holds up a tray and shows it to their host. “We brought something for dessert, see? It’s donuuuts and muffins and cookies aaand…yeah. Caduceus and I baked them ourselves and I’m sure you’ll love them. They’re very tasty and very pretty, too. Look!” And indeed, they are. At least, they are when Jester’s standards are applied. The heaps of baked goods are covered in frosting drawn into shapes of googly-eyed Captain Tusktooths, hamster-unicorns, dodecahedrons, Frumpkins and - of course - dicks. Ikithon’s left eyebrow twitches and Caleb would swear he can see a vein on his temple pulsating. A deep satisfaction purrs in him like Frumpkin when his chin is scratched just right. And for the first time this evening, Caleb feels not only like they are going to be fine, but like this could even actually be fun, just like Jester and Veth and Caduceus and even Beau said when they decided to attend.

Jester is the first to cross the threshold and seems to break some sort spell with her action. Caduceus follows her, giving Ikithon a placid smile. “Much appreciated, your invitation. And your effort. This is going to be just lovely,” he announces.

After him, Veth strides inside, nose in the air and eyes narrowing at Caleb’s former teacher. She says nothing, just as Caleb whom she tugs along behind her with a tight grip on his coattail. He says nothing, just looks at the old man. And he looks back, almost as if he is daring Caleb to say something. He feels the distant need to cave in, to keep with his good manners and thank for the invitation but Yasha mumbles a soft “Don’t” in his ear. He feels her strong arms brushing against his back as she stays impossibly close behind him and he feels protected. He looks away from Ikithon and feels his heart beat calming down again.

“ _Danke_ ,” he whispers back at Yasha who just smiles as she ducks around a chandelier in the entrance hall.

Fjord repeats his thanks in a clipped voice, trying to bully Beauregard inside quickly and quietly, but she plants herself in front of Trent and crosses her arms. She cocks her head and a smile spreads across her face. It is entirely devoid of joy and a grimace of ominous promise. A promise of what, even she does not really know. Not for certain. “Hi, Trent,” she grinds out and feels a grim delight at seeing him visibly ruffled at the lack of respect.

“Welcome, Expositor Lionett,” he grinds out and returns her violent smile with a cruel one of his own. God, she can’t wait to punch it off him.

The door closes behind them with a sound of finality and not for the first time, Beau doubts the cleverness of their decision. Scratch that, she doesn’t need to doubt it. She knows it is stupid and reckless to be here. But fuck it, she stands by that decision. Anything to pull one over Trent fucking Ikithon. And, hey, who is she to complain if she gets a free meal out of it on top of everything. Fuck him. Fuck this. A family reunion, he said in his letter? They’ll show him what a family is. Beau squares up and entering the dining room feels a lot like gearing up for battle. Oh, how they’ll show him.

The dining room is, thankfully, not at the top of the tower, so the number of stairs they have to climb is on the excusable side. But judging by the size of it, it likely takes up the space of an entire floor. The table is wide and massive, made from dark wood and polished to shining perfection, adorned with a thin table runner made from pristine white linen, porcelain plates, silver cutlery and crystal wine glasses. Veth is going to have so much fun stealing from all of it. Sure, the gnawing pull of kleptomania has more or less subsided ever since she got her old body back, but here she is more than willing to heed its call on this occasion. Maybe, if she feels especially vindictive, she will even pick the pockets of the two other guests. Speaking of which, they are already sitting at the table, and Veth does not like the pattern they are sitting it. The far end of the table holds an empty chair that is obviously reserved for Ikithon himself. On the left of that spot sits a blonde woman, a sharp beauty that cannot even be marred by the large scars running across her face and neck. So that is Astrid. A part of her wants to swoon at the thought of her Caleb and this woman together, thinking about how beautiful a couple they would make, but the other – the far larger part of her feels mostly apprehensive about Caleb’s childhood sweetheart. The seat on the right side of Ikithon’s place, however, is left empty. Next to it sits a somewhat sullen-looking man with short black hair. Eodwulf. Yes…yes, she faintly remembers him from the asylum.

…are they honestly expecting the Nein to let them isolate Caleb like that, and on Ikithon’s right side on top of it? Caduceus almost snorts with amusement. How adorable. He scans the room again and a small calculation runs through his mind. Obviously, Caleb has to go somewhere else. Yasha should avoid that seat like the plague, as well. Maybe Fjord would swallow that particular bitter pill. He certainly can be stoic enough to endure the ensuing awkwardness. Beau would certainly be too much of a powder keg, she is out for blood, he just knows it. Caduceus would take the place himself it need be, but he also has the feeling that Trent has a particularly low opinion of him and he’d enjoy some nice conversation during dinner, thank you very much. Of course, they absolutely cannot expose Jester to that seat. Absolutely not. Speaking not(t)s, Veth is a dangerous option, as well. Too feral, he worries.

He watches as Jester chooses the spot next to Astrid, greeting her with a charming smile and a “Hey, are you Astrid? I once wrote you a letter, you know, althooough it was a secret that it was from me but I put my last name on it, so I guess it didn’t turn out that secret, after all. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Jester.” Astrid stares at her, clearly overwhelmed and without a timely reply because when Jester sits down, she waves towards their wizard. “Cay-leb! Over here! Come on! Tonight, it’s your turn to sit next to me! You haven’t sat next to me in ages.” She even pulls out a little pout that should have a cuteness warning. Caleb does not even hesitate to throw a worried look at the empty and obvious spot before rounding the table and sitting down next to Jester. Caduceus smiles. While he would prefer him to be even further away from that Astrid, this is a good start.

Fjord takes a long look before walking up to Eodwulf and asking: “ ‘scuse me, would this seat happen to still be empty?” He points at the seat between Eodwulf and the rest of the empty chairs along the table that are for the Nein.

“ _Ja, ist er_. Please, sit down,” Eodwulf answers. His voice is a rumble and he seems cautious, but at least his look at Fjord is not overtly hostile.

Fjord offers his hand as he sits down. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance properly, this time. My name is Fjord.”

“Eodwulf,” the man replies and takes the offered hand. Caduceus is not happy, it is too early and the situation too unstable for that, but he feels a thread of worry vanish from his mind. Still, his gaze is drawn back to the seat that had originally been appointed to Caleb. Caduceus’ left ear twitches and flicks with worry, but he feels a bony elbow jutting against his hip a little too haphazardly to be called gently.

“Leave it to me,” Beauregard whispers in the direction of his ear and marches up to the far away empty spot. “This seat taken yet?” She throws the question in the direction of Astrid and Eodwulf but does not even wait for an answer before gripping the backseat and beginning to drag the chair away and down the table towards a spot between Yasha and Fjord. She slaps Fjord on the back. “C’mon, man, scoot over.” He rolls his eyes and sighs but obliges and makes spaces for her to squeeze the seat in. With little space left for her legs, she hops onto the chair and just squats on it. She winks at Jester and Caleb. The latter smiles in response and looks down at the table. Beau looks down the table and sees the rest of the Mighty Nein settling in and she grins as well. This is going to be one hell of a family dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> -Ja, [...] wirklich unangenehm. - Yes, [...] really uncomfortable.  
> -Danke - Thanks  
> -Ja, ist er. - Yes, it is.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it so far, although the true (and slightly exaggerated) chaos is yet to come with the M9 on their most deliberately obnxious behaviour. Comments would, of course, be extroadinary lovely.  
> Oh, yeah, and: IT'S FINALLY THURSDAY!


	2. Stop Flipping For My Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So. I have heard that your interests may wander northward for the time being. What sparks your interest in that region?”  
> “No talking shop during dinner!” Fjord does not even look up from his goblet as he issues the familiar reminder.  
> Ikithon, however, pins him down with his eyes quicker and sharper than a Barghest’s claw. “I beg your pardon?”  
> Fjord makes a show of returning the look slowly before clearing his throat and giving a miniscule smile. “House rule. We don’t discuss business when we’re having a family dinner. These two nerds,” he gestures vaguely at Caleb and Beau, much to her chagrin, “Will start to huddle together to strategize faster than you can say ‘Eldritch Blast’ and Jester and Veth will come up with even worse plans than usual.”
> 
> ________  
> Dinner time! Not neccessarily always awkward, but definitely chaotic. And wholesome. The wholesomeness is important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trent Ikithon: *breathes*  
> Me: That’s gonna be a fucking yikes from me, bro.
> 
> Well, this took slightly longer to finish up than I anticipated. Sorry. What an episode, huh? I’ll avoid spoilers here for the folks who haven’t seen it yet as best as I can, but I really want to say that I was striving for something like the dinner at Brenatto’s with the phrase ‘chaotic domesticity’ in the tags. Anyways, have my version of the dinner with approximately 18% less tension and 900% even more deliberate cheekiness because (apparently) contrary to the ever delightful Mr O’Brien I can’t help but want to give Caleb an emotional break at least every once in a while.  
> Also, I’m sorry for the pieces from Trent’s POV. I am absolutely convinced that he doesn’t know all their names (except for Beau, probably) and doesn’t bother learning them. Also, warning for what might be considered deadnaming, he will call Caleb ‘Bren’ exclusively, both in his thoughts and to Caleb’s face (except for once which wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Matt’s amazingly disgusting performance in Ep 110).  
> Re: Astrid and Eodwulf: they’re still incredibly hard to grasp for me and I’m slapping an ooc warning on them anyways (especially bc I have Astrid a bit further down the indoctrination lane than she might actually be, but I tried to balance it). Just fyi.  
> I cannot guarantee that the comments will be spoiler-free especially because I’d like to hear the thoughts of those who’ve watched already. So maybe proceed to the comments with caution if you haven’t seen the VOD yet.

The ever-looming presence of Trent Ikithon enters last, almost like a butcher enters a slaughterhouse after having sent all the lambs inside, and the doors behind him close with a quiet but echoing _click_. He looks at the table and looks supremely put out by the impromptu changes in the seating arrangement. When his gaze lingers on Caleb and her and his eyes narrow for a moment, Jester gives him her most radiant smile. Caleb can see Ikithon exhaling through his nostrils before walking towards his own seat at the head of the table. He sits down and silence falls over the table. Even Veth and Fjord stop bickering for a moment.

“I am glad you followed my invitation. After all that has happened, it was high time to…get acquainted better, don’t you agree? We have a common link, after all, in our dear Bren. Or, as you know him, Caleb.” The hiss coming from Veth has a very distinctly Nott-esque quality. He can almost see the forest of bared sharp pinprick-teeth. “There is a lot to talk about. But I would be an ill host if we had to do so with dry throats.” Ikithon claps his hands and wine bottles float around, most likely carried by invisible servants.

“I am sure you can appreciate the quality of the wine, expositor,” Trent says to Beau. He smiles, his tone is sandpaper coated in honey, and Beau feels a pit in her stomach opening even before she can look at the bottle hovering next to her glass. Anything that makes him smile like that cannot be good. Then, she reads the label. Oh, fuck that bastard. Lionett vineyard. She forces her mouth into a grimace resembling a smile and crosses her arms. “Oh, yeah. Not our finest vintage, but I’m sure it’s the best you can get here.” That is a blatant lie but the brief flicker of annoyance in his eyes is so worth it.

“So. I have heard that your interests may wander northward for the time being. What sparks your interest in that region?”

“No talking shop during dinner!” Fjord does not even look up from his goblet as he issues the familiar reminder.

Ikithon, however, pins him down with his eyes quicker and sharper than a Barghest’s claw. “I beg your pardon?”

Fjord makes a show of returning the look slowly before clearing his throat and giving a miniscule smile. “House rule. We don’t discuss business when we’re having a family dinner. These two nerds,” he gestures vaguely at Caleb and Beau, much to her chagrin, “Will start to huddle together to strategize faster than you can say ‘Eldritch Blast’ and Jester and Veth will come up with even worse plans than usual.”

“How can you say something so mean, Fjord. Our plans are the best!”

“Yeah! She’s right! Our plans are amazing!”

Fjord raises one eyebrow and tries to stare both women down. He says only one word but that he says with poignance. “Fluffernutter.”

Veth and Jester share a look before they simultaneously reply: “Exactly!”

Thankfully, Fjord does not have to argue over how sensible an option Fluffernutter really is in his eyes and lose another argument to Jester pouting sadly at him because the first course arrives. Bowls filled with artfully arranged salads appear in front of everybody and a pair of bottles filled with bright liquids pops into existence in the middle of the table.

Caduceus leans over his salad and sniffs curiously. He has to admit, he is a bit disappointed by the result. While happy that there is at least one entirely meat-free course, this salad is woefully unimaginative for his taste. No carrots, no tomatoes, no olives, no crushed nuts, no nothing. Not even some cucumber. Just different kinds of salad leaves and some onions. At least, they threw some parsley, chives and a couple of other herbs into the mix.

He turns to Yasha. “Would you please pass me the vinegar?” She says nothing and just turns towards Beau who is already reaching for the bottle of vinegar and then proceeds to drown her own salad in it before passing the bottle on.

Caduceus mutters a thanks and pours a generous amount of dressing. Then, he grabs his bag which he slung over the back of his chair and starts rummaging through it, looking for the little pots of seasoning and nuts he always carries around. Even he cannot make this salad shine, but at least he can make it salvageable. …no, that’s unkind of him. The salad is not bad, per se, it is merely…bland.

“Gimme the salt, too, when you’re done, yeah Ducey?”

“Swallow first, talk later, Beau. Nobody wants to see the greens between your teeth.”

“Gross! And I don’t have greens between my teeth, Veth!”

“ _Ja_ , you do.”

“Fuck you, Caleb.”

“ _Nein danke_.”

“Can I have some of your cashews, Caduceus?”

“Of course, there you go.” Yasha thanks him quietly and picks at her salad with renewed vigor. Caduceus smiles at the sight. It is always nice to know he can make a meal more enjoyable for the others.

The second course is roasted lemon chicken with mashed potatoes, beans, glazed carrots, stewed leeks and pickled beetroots in large bowls to choose from. Few things could make such a delicious composition turn sour for Trent, but something – or, rather, someone does manage to do so very quickly.

“Dude, wanna check out how many chicken legs I can stuff into my mouth at the same time?” Lionett sounds excited and Trent feels a whole new headache throbbing at his temple.

“Ohh, that’s disgusting,” the large furry one comments and for a moment something like relief floods Trent. “Yeah. Go for it.” _Verdammt nochmal aber auch_.

“Ooh, ooh, let me try, too!” The tiefling manifestation of hyperactivity bounces up and down on her place.

The expositor’s face lightens up and a worrisome glint enters her eyes. “Oh. Oooh! I have a better idea! A competition! Let’s make it an eating contest! You and me, Jess! The one who first downs five chicken legs wins!”

The tiefling nods and replies with a drawn-out “Yeah!”

“Cad, wanna be the judge?”

A shrug. “Eh, sure. Why not.”

Bren shifts on his seat and turns to the tiefling. “Ah, would you happen to carry some liquorish with you, Jester?”

She looks at him non-plussed before shrugging. “Ya, sure.” She starts to rustle through her garish pink bag and pulls out a small black sweet she pushes into Bren’s hand. The monk’s eyes narrow as he thanks the tiefling.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up. Caleb, what are you gonna do with that?”

He looks back at her with a straight face and a neutral expression. “I just feel like having a nibble.”

“Bullshit. I think you’re trying to help Jester cheat.”

Bren’s voice is bland and placid and Trent has never heard him lie more obviously. “That is an appalling accusation, Beauregard, and I would never have thought you’d stoop so low as accusing Jester of cheating.” He raises the root to his mouth and takes a bite, his eyes never leaving the monk’s.

“Caleb, don’t you dare-“

His hand darts out and closes around the tiefling’s shoulder. “Go on and win this, Jester.”

“CALEB!!!”

The tiefling starts ploughing through the plate of chicken legs in front of her at a disgusting pace.

“Fuck you, Caleb!”

“Fuck you, Beauregard.”

A blob of mashed potatoes sails through the air and hits Bren right in the face. For an impossible, glorious second Trent cannot believe how easy it is. Sowing dissent in the group without even having to do anything himself? They destroying their band from inside out? More perfect than he could have planned and maybe even something enduring this disgusting mess of a turn the dinner turned for. But then he notices the subdued grin tugging at Bren’s lips and the barking laugh breaking out of the monk’s throat and he feels like breaking something.

There is, of course, no chance of winning for Beau anymore but she starts ripping into the juicy piece of meat anyway. Yasha cheers her on and knocks rhythmically onto the table to push her on and it feels _amazing_. Besides, Jester would probably sulk like hell if she just lets her win without any effort. And the chicken tastes absolutely amazing, the rich fragrance of spices and herbs in the meat is delicious. She can even see Caduceus in the corner of her eye, taking some offered lemon slices from Veth and sucking them out. Caleb is digging into the carrots and she’s glad to see no trace of the worry he entered the building with left on his brow. Instead, only a little smear from her mashed-potato-missile remains.

“Maybe we should make a stop in Rohsona before next week,” Veth announces surprisingly during the steak course. Beau and Fjord give her worried looks but she only waves them off. Hopefully they understand that she wants Ikithon to hear about how well-liked they are in Xhorhas. She wants him to know how little they worry about him hearing parts of their plans and how independent Caleb is from him.

“Good idea,” Caduceus agrees, “If we want to stop by in Zadash, why not also at the Xhorhouse. My plants could need some cropping. And you could get Yeza some of his supplies. I’m sure he misses the alchemy lab.”

“Wouldn’t we better spend the time elsewhere?” Caleb frowns at her.

“Well, you could go see Essek. I’m sure he’d appreciate a visit from you, Caleb.”

“Do you think he’d teach you some new cool dunamacy trick, Caleb?”

“I…I don’t know, Jester. Besides, I think the Transmogrification was enough of a common project for the time being. I’m…working some other stuff right now. Stuff I have to figure out on my own, you know. I’m really close to getting a new trick just right and I don’t think Essek would be interested in that.”

“But Caleb…he likes spending time with you.”

“Yeah, man, he likes you.”

“Well, I should hope so. After everything that’s happened.”

Jester sighs dramatically and shakes her head, which makes Beau roll her eyes in turn.

Veth clears her throat and takes back the reigns on the conversation. “Anyway, we’ve decided that I get to spend more time with my husband and son, so why don’t you all also take that time as a little vacation. I bet the hot tub in the Xhorhouse could use a good filling. It’s been ages since we last used it.”

“Hmm, a bubble bath would be awesome.”

“See? Just imagine, a bubble bath and some music. Just chilling…”

“Holy shit, Yasha, how about a practice room for you? And maybe we can get another didgeridoo thingy for Caduceus!”

“It was a flute, but go on. This sounds very interesting.”

Astrid has difficulty following the conversation at times. The group sometimes makes the weirdest jumps between topics and arguments. Right now, for example. Just when she thinks the topic is turning towards necessary renovations to add a music room to their…headquarters? House? Home base? Who knows – the blue tiefling next to her…Jess- Jessica? no – Jester, _das war’s_ – gasps and turns towards Bren.

“Cayleeeb, let’s dance. You’ve danced with Beau and Fjord yesterday, so it’s my turn today.”

“ _Naja_ …I haven’t danced with the others either. Caduceus, care for a dance?”

“Ah, no thank you. I’m afraid I don’t really know how to waltz.”

Bren looks at the giant woman with raised eyebrows, clearly surprised. “Can you even play a waltz, Yasha?”

“I don’t know. I can certainly try, though.”

“Well, we don’t have to waltz. I…Jester, I think I offered you to teach you the tarantella some time, didn’t I?”

Jester’s nose scrunches up for a moment as she thinks hard, then her face clears and she nods excitedly. “Ooh, yes! Wasn’t that back in Hupperdook, when you…you know…”

The tiefling turns halfway around and throws a probably meaningful look at Astrid. She has absolutely no idea what that is supposed to mean and Astrid has to stop herself from frowning. This is all wrong. It’s not how the evening is supposed to go. It’s not how things should be. They shouldn’t have that many secret jokes and shared history together. Bren doesn’t belong to them. He belongs to her and Wulf and the three of them, they belong to Master Ikithon, whether they want it or not. This evening was supposed to remind him of that. But instead, Bren is smiling and joking with these ragtag people and barely paying attention to his old family. To her. To Wulf. And least of all to Master Ikithon. She feels like a stranger looking through a window into a scene she is only privy to as an observer.

“ _Ja, ja_.” Bren nods and flashes a thin and slightly pained smile at Jester. “But that, ahh, that’s not a matter anymore, you know? Just…let’s just…” He trails off with a shrug and grabs the blue hand to drag her off her seat as the aasimar across the table pulls out a giant harp that – that… is that _bone_??!

“May we present the amazing, the singular - Yasha and the Orphanmakeeeers!” Jester gives her best announcer impression and uses some Thaumaturgy to slam open the door with a magical gust of wind that conveniently also makes Yasha’s hair flutter beautifully and enhances her opening accords into a loud cacophony of notes. The musician smiles bashfully as Beau cheers her on and starts clapping when she begins to play an upbeat, quick melody that Jester has far too much fun just spinning and twirling to pay too much attention to Caleb’s gentle coaxing. He soon gives up trying to guide her into a set of dance moves and joins her in enjoying the flow of the music anyways, the two of them just spinning around arm in arm, smiling and having fun.

To her immense surprise, Fjord cuts in after some time, offering Jester another dance. She happily accepts and sees Caleb smile at them as he leaves them alone and walks over towards Caduceus’ seat. Before she can think any closer about it, Fjord lifts her arm and she spins underneath it, closer into him so they can properly start their dance. She has way too much fun to think anything else after that.

For dessert, Caduceus and Jester’s baked goods are distributed on large silver platters engraved with beautiful, intricate patterns. Jester hides a diabolical smile as she notices Veth using her Mage Hand to put only pastries covered in dick-patterned icing in front of Ikithon to choose from.

Caleb, now sitting next to Caduceus, is petting a recently-conjured Frumpkin who is lounging in his wizard’s lap without a care in the world, chatting with the firbolg about this and that.

Everything is relatively quiet – as quiet as things can ever be with the Mighty Nein around – as the door to the dining room opens and a piece of paper folded into the form of a small bird flies in and settles down on the table next to Ikithon’s goblet. The archmage picks the paper up, unfolds it and draws his eyebrows into a frown as he starts reading.

“Please excuse me for a moment,” he announces and stands up. He looks to his left. “Astrid, with me.”

The blonde obeys without a moment of hesitation, but she looks down the table on her way towards her teacher and Jester can’t help but give her an encouraging smile. There is something like longing in the woman’s eye and Jester can’t stand it. She leans over to Caleb who is watching the two mages like a hawk. “Caleb!” Her voice is a whisper but her tone is urgent and thankfully he immediately turns around.

“Yes?”

“Can I borrow Frumpkin for a moment?”

“Ja, of course. I…ah, I don’t need him right now, anyway. I’ll head over there for a moment, alright?” He gestures towards Beau. Jester shrugs dismissively, already busy talking to Frumpkin and trying to convince the cat to bring a pastry over to Astrid to brighten her mood.

Eodwulf looks up as Caleb sits down between himself and the expositor on Fjord’s now empty chair after exchanging some quiet words with the pink-haired…cowman, for lack of a better word, after turning away from the bubbly tiefling. Those piercing blue eyes are almost the same as he remembers from their childhood days. Their gaze has lost some of its hard gleam. Instead, they look older. Older than he thinks they should be, he thinks. Far older than his or Astrid’s eyes, at the very least. He feels a sudden yearning for the simpler times of their apprenticeship, when he would have known what exactly to say to Bren to elicit a sharp smile and an even sharper retort. But this isn’t Bren anymore. Now, he is Caleb, a virtual stranger, and Eodwulf wants nothing more than to reach out to the man and find the one he once knew inside.

Bren – no, Caleb, damn it, Caleb offers him the echo of a smile. “ _Wie – wie geht’s dir_ , Wulf?” His voice is so gentle, his words so controlled, it is like a negative reflection of how Bren used to be as a kid.

Eodwulf offers a twist of his lips in return. “ _Könnte schlechter sein_.” A weak chuckle is his reward and he is almost disgusted at how glad he is to hear it. Not that he’d show it outwardly.

“ _Ja. Ich weiß, was du meinst. Es ist viel passiert. Und vieles davon ist schwer zu verarbeiten_.“

“ _Aber du hast es verarbeitet_?” He cannot help the disbelieving surprise that tinges his words but Caleb shakes his head.

“ _Nein._ _Nein, nicht das, was du meinst. Das wird mehr Zeit brauchen. Wenn ich überhaupt jemals ganz drüber hinwegkomme. Vielleicht – vielleicht eines Tages. Aber…hm. Vielleicht_.“

Eodwulf looks at the colorful bunch of weird people surrounding them, making the room brighter with their laughter and their liveliness. “ _Weißt du was? Ich glaube, das wirst du. Du hast so viele Leute, die dir dabei helfen_.“

Caleb smiles. A more honest smile, a truer smile and something in Eodwulf shatters and mends itself in quick succession at seeing it. “ _Ja. Ich habe Glück, dass ich sie habe._ _Dass ich dazugehöre. Die_ Mighty Nein,“ almost everybody turns their heads towards them as they hear the group’s name dropped amidst the garble of Zemnian, “ _Sind alles, was ich habe._ _Ohne sie wäre ich tot. Oder im Gefängnis. Oder wahnsinnig. Es ist…beängstigend und ermutigend zugleich. Sie bauen mich auf. Sie halten mich zusammen, wenn ich auseinanderzufallen drohe. Ich bin ihnen wichtig. Manchmal kann ich es selbst kaum fassen, aber sie mögen mich für den, der ich bin, und würden alles für mich tun. Und ich würde dasselbe für sie tun_.“

Eodwulf stares at him, long and hard. Then, he gives a single nod. “ _Ich verstehe. Du hast eine Familie gefunden_.“

This time, it’s Caleb who looks down the table and takes them all in. “ _…ja. Ja, das habe ich wohl_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations (sorry that this is gonna be pretty long)
> 
> -Nein danke – No thank you  
> -Verdammt nochmal aber auch – no literal translation possible; it’s like a twice enhanced “damn it” but without added vulgarity (so, basically “God fucking damn it” but in a not-crude way. You could also make it a lot more crude in German, err, Zemnian)  
> -Naja… – Well…  
> Eodwulf and Caleb’s dialogue in English: “How – how are you, Wulf?” – “Could be worse.” – “Yeah. I know what you mean. A lot happened. And a lot of it is hard to process.” – “But you did process it?” – “No. No, not what you mean. That will take more time. If I ever get over it completely. Maybe – maybe someday. But…hm. Maybe.” – “You know what? I think you will. You have so many people helping you with that.” – “Yes. I’m lucky to have them. To be a part of them. The Mighty Nein are all I have. Without them, I would be dead. Or in jail. Or insane. It’s…terrifying and elating at the same time. They build me up. They keep me together when I’m unraveling at my seams. I’m important to them. Sometimes I can hardly believe it myself, but they like me for who I am and they would do anything for me. And I would do the same for them.” – “I understand. You found a family.” – “…yes. Yes, I suppose I have.”
> 
> Whooops, got a little more emotional at the end there than I intended.  
> I am somewhat sorry (but not overly much, tbh) for the huge chunk of German at the end there. It was really important to me that Caleb has that discussion in Zemnian, partly because he’d never admit all that out loud if everybody could understand him, and also because saying something in your mother tongue just hits home more closely in regards to accepting things, y’know? It’s just an important step for him to call the Mighty Nein his family in Zemnian.  
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting, I hope you enjoyed the ride!


End file.
